


how hopeless under ground (falls the remorseful day)

by FastestKeyboardTyperInTheWest



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Coda to 2x4, Gen, If this actually happens i will be v. upset, References to Character Death, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 10:47:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1507727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FastestKeyboardTyperInTheWest/pseuds/FastestKeyboardTyperInTheWest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a whole catalogue of people Morse has failed in some way, but drink isn't going to wipe away any of it, and pitying himself isn't going to reanimate cold dead bodies.</p>
<p>A (possible) coda/extension to 2x4.</p>
            </blockquote>





	how hopeless under ground (falls the remorseful day)

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from 'May' by A. E. Housman.

Morse finds out the Fred Thursday is dead in a tiny holding cell that has a single window, barred with rods of wrought iron, and a single door, bolted and locked double at night. It doesn't seem quite the place to hear about someone who was more than a mentor, close to a friend, in this grey steel room.

He's not quite sure why he's cataloging the contents of his surroundings.

It's probably from shock.

The orderly informs him in serious tones and doesn't comment on Morse's slightly shaking hands or the way his voice stutters a little- not much, just enough for it to be noticeable- when he asks him to thank the somber copper who told him about it. 'Strange', apparently. He goes and Morse sits on the heavy iron coffin that passes for a bed.

Dead, Morse thinks. The man who picked him out of a stupor and recognised his talent, such as it is, is dead. The shock is fading but he still can't believe it fully. He can see the Thursdays in his mind's eye: Win and Joan and Sam, without a husband and a father. And he could've saved him. Easily.

That bastard.

He's glad that he's dead. Hopefully he'll take the saturated corruption of Oxford with him. It's not likely though and Morse knows it. Thursday's death will have achieved nothing, and the scum who infiltrate the upper echelons of the police and the civil service will become worse, become more daring, even more daring than...

Now isn't the time to think about that.

To the end, Thursday told him on that last night. Just before a bent copper stepped out of the shadows and put a bullet in his chest.

_I know who you couldn't save, Morse._

There's a whole catalogue of people Morse has failed in some way, but drink isn't going to wipe away any of it, and pitying himself isn't going to reanimate cold dead bodies. His mind is never sharper than when it's beaten, so he puts away the self loathing and hate and focuses on making sure the whole web of deceit in City Police is eradicated- and on a lesser note, that he gets out of his dank cell to make sure.

 He arranges evidence in his head, thinks of people he can trust, and hears the words of a corpse in his head:

 

_That's the job. Get to it._

 


End file.
